


Like Her Father Before Her

by AerinKebiinkad (Socially_Awkward_Dragon)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darth Vader finds Leia, Darth Vader's A+ parenting, Gen, Parent Darth Vader, Past Loss of Limbs, Sith Leia, Suitless Darth Vader, They are just going to be a happy Sith family okay, Vader kills the organas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socially_Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/AerinKebiinkad
Summary: Anakin lost much when he turned from the Light, but he keeps hearing a call in the Force, someone calling him who sounds so much like Padmé he must answer.
Relationships: Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker, Past Anakin Skywalker/Padmé Amidala
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	Like Her Father Before Her

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this picture by DazzlingJedi on Tumblr: [Dazzling Jedi](https://dazzlingjedi.tumblr.com/post/637263373086654464/no-one-will-take-you-from-now-on-daddys-here)
> 
> So obviously this is canon divergent, I’ve decided to dial back Vader’s injuries, let him keep some of his humanities so he can interact with Leia more. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve really dove deep in Star Wars universe, so please forgive any inaccuracies in lore, I spent hours on Wookiepedia trying to keep it as true to canon as I can, Stars Collide series is so much easier because I can basically make up things as I go. I tried my best to keep as close as I can, but obviously there are going to be some changes. I haven’t abandoned Stars Collide, I just saw that picture and couldn’t get it out of my head. Hope you guys like it!

He felt it as soon as he came out of the bacta tank.

A constant niggling feeling in the back of his mind, twisting and crying for his attention. Easily ignored, but never far away, waiting in the edges of his consciousness to flutter to life in moments of quiet or as he fell asleep. Eerily familiar, but foreign at the same time, like a song he had heard many, many years ago and had forgotten, but new and aching to be heard at the same time.

At first, he was so consumed by his grief, over the loss of his Padmé and the betrayal of Obi-Wan that he ignored it, pushing it to the back of his mind as he instead learned to control his new body parts. The work of learning to walk using the new cybernetic prosthetics that started at his upper thigh and now stretched up his arm and part of his chest distracted him, gave him something to focus his anger on and ignore everything but his Master’s commands. Every day of his recovery he cursed Obi-Wan for the slice that took the majority of his right leg, for the burns that had taken the rest of his right arm and damaged his right side enough that half of his chest had been replaced with new durasteel bones, synthetic nerve endings and pulmonodes to replace his right lung and parts of his heart. The new mechnos he was given, as state of the art as they were, did not give him the range he wanted and he spent every spare moment that wasn’t taken up with crushing the remaining Jedi and Republic fiddling with the tech, testing and replacing and repairing until he felt his body was his own again.

By then, months had passed and the Empire was well on its way to fruition under his Master’s benevolent hand. Vader didn’t allow himself to think about the feeling, even though it never fully went away. In fact, as the days past it grew stronger, demanding to be heard and acknowledged. It wasn’t until after he returned with his new saber and he collapsed into his bed for some much needed rest that it got past his shields and he was paralyzed by the sound dancing through the Force.

Sweet music, the warm, sugary feeling of joy and laughter. The sunshine feeling he associated with Padmé mixed with something else, a spice and bite he didn’t recognize but that called to something deep in his soul. A voice in the Force, calling for him, demanding his attention, desperate for his touch. Without thinking, he reached out, searching for the voice, shifting through the Force for the voice. All exhaustion left him as he searched, casting his senses wide to find the voice.

Somewhere...somewhere not on this planet. Somewhere far away. But it’s there, shining and calling, demanding his attention after so long being ignored. And he has to answer the call.

***

It took time.

Too much time for a simple search in the Force. 

Once upon a time, he had been able to communicate with Obi-Wan from a planet away, had been able to joke with his padawan from across the galaxy. Even now, he could easily reach out to his Master if he wished, if he didn’t want to bother with the comms. But frustratingly, it was like there wasn’t something to actually connect with. No mind that could communicate, no actual presence, just the soft song and the impression of... _something_. Something Other.

Now that he was focused on it, the presence dipped in and out, always there but at times stronger than others. Sometimes it would drop to a dull throb at the back of the Force, lying quiet and undisturbed, asking nothing but pulsing in contentment when he acknowledged it. Other times it was bright and shining, _aware_ in a way that confused him because it _should_ be able to respond back to him, but the most he could get was fuzzy impressions. Occasionally there was a flash of anger, a sense of not getting what it wanted right _then_. He felt like he was in a different room and someone was trying to shout at him, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying, and he desperately wanted to understand.

Hours he spent in meditation, reaching out, trying to find the voice, the Other as he started to call it Nothing more came, just impressions of warmth and safety and...another emotion that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It felt familiar, like something he had felt a long time ago, tugging at the part of him that Vader did his best to crush under his bootheel, the soft, _weak_ part of him that had once been _Anakin Skywalker_. He refused to acknowledge that part of himself, desperate to rid himself of it. He was Darth Vader, apprentice to Sith Lord Darth Sidious, Emperor of the Galaxy. He was powerful, he was feared, the galaxy was at his fingertips, he had no use for the _boy_ who had killed his own wife. He wanted _nothing_ from him.

His new obsession did not go unnoticed by his Master. More than once, he was called before Sidious and punished for his lack of total devotion to his Master. But still, he tried to find them, reaching out from his bed after the punishments, desperate for that sunshine-sugar-adoring feeling as he waited for the bacta and nerve agents to dull the pain. And each time, he received it back, though the presence did not know why he needed it, or what the pain that radiated from him meant. 

At first the pain frightened the Other, made them want to run away from his mind in the Force. So he found himself soothing them just as much as he was soothed, whispering calming words and radiating peace through the Force, much as Obi-Wan had done when he was a child and had nightmares when he was first taken from Tatooine, when they were paired as Master and Padawan. When he realized what he was doing, he ripped himself away from the Other so quickly he made himself dizzy, adding a headache to the pain brought by Palpatine’s punishments. 

Closing himself off to the Other, he rolled over and called a decanter of the expensive Alderaanian whiskey he had discovered he had a taste for and chugged straight from the bottle. He allowed the liquor to fog his thoughts, cursing himself for reaching for another for comfort. How did he even know he was feeling a _person_? For all he knew, it was merely a Force sensitive frog on an Outer Rim scughole. Foolish, _foolish_ boy. 

***

Finally, _finally_ , he discovered where the feeling was coming from. He had been dispatched to Alderaan to speak to Queen Breha on behalf of his Master and the moment his boots touched the planet surface, the sense of Other filled him. He _knew_ the Other was here, somewhere on this kriffing planet, calling for him. Alderaan was in the middle of its night cycle, so the streets were calm and deserted as he stalked through the avenues, cloak flapping in the wind as he lurked through the empty streets. The feeling of the Other was one he associated with the Other sleeping, quiet and content, the warm buzzy feeling of safety. As he made his way closer to the palace it grew stronger, the feeling of the Other growing and reaching out to him more as he grew closer to the extravagant palace of the Organas.

He was brusque with the servants when he arrived at the gates, relishing in their fear as they recognized his helmet and clothes, the lightsaber hanging on his belt. He was shown to the throne room even though it was the dead of night and told to wait by a trembling maid servant. The feeling of the Other was washing over him, filling his senses with the calm and spice he had come to know from a great distance and his inability to search the palace grated on his nerves. He paced the throne room, the opulence of the room lost on him as his bootheels clicked on the marble floor. When the doors to the throne room opened he whirled and glared through the helmet at Organa and his Queen as they strolled in. Neither had a hair out of place, dressed in fine robes of state, no trace that they had been ripped from their beds by his arrival on their persons.

“Lord Vader,” Queen Breha said calmly as she entered and brushed past him to take her seat on the throne. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” Vader held himself back from a sarcastic comment as Bail, his former friend, joined his wife on the dais to stand by her throne.

“The Emperor has sent me to negotiate with you concerning Alderaan joining the Empire,” he said harshly, words that carried the bite of hate modulated by the helmet’s vocoder. “But it seems the Alderaanian people already risk my Master’s displeasure by hiding a Jedi in their midst.”

Breha’s face gave away nothing, but he didn’t miss the subtle shift of Bail’s feet. It had been a guess, that the Other might be a Jedi hiding on Alderaan, but that reaction merely confirmed his suspicions. The Other was _here_ and he would find them, if he had to tear the palace apart with his own two hands.

“The Jedi are no more,” Breha said calmly, voice as steady as if she was discussing the weather. “You and your _Master_ made sure of that. There are no Jedi here. Alderaan will not give up her sovereignty to bow before the so-called Emperor.”

Vader dismissed her brave words and let his sense open, searching for the Other. He left the Force guide him and found it. There, high above him in the palace, the Other’s presence shone bright as the sun, calling him. He had to get out of this ridiculous meeting and find them. His concentration was broken when a maid entered by a side door and hurried to the Queen’s side, bending to whisper in her ear.

“We can continue this meeting in the morning,” Breha said suddenly and rose, waving the girl away. “There is a matter that requires my attention. Clovis will show you to a suite so you can rest and we will continue in the morning. Lord Vader.” She didn’t wait for his agreement, sweeping out of the room with Bail close at her heels.

Vader’s fists clenched at the dismissal, and he considered taking his anger out on the girl who remained, shaking in fear as she waited for him to acknowledge her, but he held back his anger. He would wait until he was alone to search. He waved a hand at her and she scurried past him to lead him up a level to a suite of guest rooms.

He didn’t give her a chance to say anything as he stalked into the room and slammed the doors behind him with the Force, ripping off his helmet and throwing it across the room in anger, ignoring the sound of shattering glass as the bucket slammed into something. He stalked around the room, allowing his senses to reach out and search for hidden cameras or microphones. Assured that he was alone and unwatched, he settled on the edge of the large bed and closed his eyes, reaching out through the Force to find the Other.

This close, he could feel more, and was startled to feel the soft presence he had associated with the babies in the creche in the Jedi temple, the unfocused presence in the Force that an untrained Sensitive child gave off. But it made sense, he mused. A Force-sensitive child, not a full fledged Jedi, the Organas would want to hide a child from the purge of Order 66. But the connection he felt to the child, the way it reached out to him and invaded his sense from a galaxy away, made no sense. Skywalker had never had much to do with the infants the Order took in, even the few youngling classes he had taught had been mature enough to have an actual presence, to be able to communicate and direct the Force. No matter, if it was having this much of an effect on him, he would retrieve it and bring it back to his Master.

He let himself sink into the joy the Other felt when he touched its mind, embrace the sunshine and spice and send his own waves of happiness for having found it back to the tiny mind. He felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t felt since the last time he had held Padme in his arms and for once, allowed himself to think of Skywalker’s wife without the crushing weight of grief filling him. Sinking deeper into the feeling, he waited as the Other drifted to sleep, lulled by his presence.

Once an hour had passed, he rose to his feet and retrieved his helmet, placing it on his head and went to the door. No one was outside and he stalked through the palace, using the Force to conceal his presence from the few guards and servants he passed as he followed the Other, slipping down corridors and up stairs until he found himself outside a set of opulent doors that were guarded by four soldiers. He assumed it was the family wing of the palace and with a flick of power, reached out and crushed the soldiers’ windpipes, dismissing them from his notice as they dropped to the floor and he pushed the doors open.

More guards were on the other side, and the alarm rang out as he stepped through the doors. No problem, with the Force on his side he easily over-powered them, using his lightsaber when needed to cut down those who got to close and made his way deeper into the wing, led by the sense of the Other that was growing stronger and stronger as he approached. The descrution he left in his wake held no interest to him and he ruthlessly dispatched any who got in his way.

At last, he found himself standing before a set of doors carved with various animals that he assumed were part of some Alderaanian stories, and blasted them open with a wave of power.

More soldiers were waiting and they put up a fight, but they were not match for a Sith deep in the throes of anger and he cut them down mercilessly. Breha and Bail were there, both brandishing blasters as they stood before a cradle and he caught Bail’s throat in a Force choke and crushed the his former friend’s windpipe before throwing his corpse aside and advancing on Breha. A few flicks of his lightsaber sent the blaster bolts into the walls and the Queen cried out as he grabbed her and drew her close. A quick glance at the cradle told him it was empty and his anger grew.

“Where is it?” he said harshly, staring into her eyes. He had to admire her courage as he tightened the hold on her throat, squeezing the life from her body and she refused to give in. “I will not ask again queen, where is the child?”

“Please,” she rasped, forcing the words out. “She’s just a baby, she’s ours…”

“Where. Is. She.” He repeated and squeezed harder. She struggled, clawing at the chestplate protecting his damaged insides, but it was a futile effort.

The queen refused to answer him and he took that as his answer, the gears in his mechanical hand whirled as he broke her neck and tossed her aside. He could hear the stomp of boots as reinforcements advanced on the room and he cast about for the child, searching for the tiny mind that had tortured him for so long. There, a chest of drawers half hidden behind a curtain by the window.

He opened the bottom drawer and there she was, blinking up at him with wise, dark eyes. Eyes that he _knew_ and that startled him so much he drew back. Dark curls, dark eyes that had haunted his dreams for years, a tiny nose that was familiar for all that it was on a baby’s soft face. _Padme_.

Carefully, he lifted the baby into his arms and she cooed at him, reaching for him with tiny hands, the joy that leaked from her mind overwhelming him and driving him to his knees. Tears coursed down his face behind the mask and he pressed the helmet to her tiny forehead.

“Its alright, little one,” he whispered as he rose and tucked her close to his side, turning to face the soldiers that filled the room, igniting the lightsaber once more and ready to defend her with every ounce of his being. “Daddy’s here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this!! A little different than what I usually write, but I saw that picture and just HAD to write it. Let me know if you want me to continue this, because I have a few ideas on how Vader would raise Leia and how things might turn out different. Love you babies!
> 
> Visit me on tumblr, I like to ramble and post memes! @AerinKebiinkads


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